


In a Maze

by Laeviss



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft, World of Warcraft - Various Authors
Genre: Blow Jobs, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Reunions, Semi-Public Sex, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 09:13:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17557550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laeviss/pseuds/Laeviss
Summary: Wrathion and Anduin reunite after Anduin's ascent to the throne. Finding a few hours of privacy in a hedge maze on the Keep's grounds, past desires start to overtake them, and Wrathion is keen to find out just how much the human has grown in his absence.





	In a Maze

**Author's Note:**

> After discovering the hedge maze in Boralus I couldn't get the idea of Anduin and Wrathion playing in one out of my head. Enjoy! <3

The hedges cast their shadow across the path as the sun set behind the Keep. Finally, they were alone, away from guards and the stares of citizens trying to catch a glimpse of their king and his unlikely companion. Wrathion loved it: the stillness, the normalcy, and the relaxed way Anduin laughed when they rounded the corner only to find—

“Another dead end!” The king’s blond hair swayed about his face when he whipped around to look for another exit. The sunset made it sparkle and dance, and Wrathion couldn’t help but let his gaze linger. He followed it as it framed Anduin’s jaw, swishing beside his neck only to spill out onto his shoulder. His heart clenched; he was certain it had nothing to do with their running. My, how his prince had grown!

Keeping step with the taller man, Wrathion peeked around one corner, then the next, but it all started to look the same. Shaking his head, he stopped walking to try to think. They had taken one left, and then a right, then they had passed a statue, before rounding a bend with a tree and some kind of hidden chamber…

“Was there a guardhouse under the tree at our turn?” Wrathion prompted, not just for his own benefit but in the hopes that Anduin would remember. He gave the king a moment to answer, before following it up with another, “Or a rest area? I sensed the ground was hollow.”

Anduin’s eyes widened slightly. The corners of his mouth twitched, as if he were trying to hold back a smile, “Yes, there are guard houses. We use them for official events, but I don’t think anyone is in them tonight.”

“So we’re alone, then?” Wrathion teased, before following it up with a more persistent, “But is that our turn? I seem to remember taking a sharp left at that tree towards the exit.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” the king shrugged a bit and looked to the side. Though Anduin was an accomplished bluffer, Wrathion had long ago learned the signs, from the way his voice fell slightly when it should have risen to the large smile plastered on his lips. Unable to help himself, Wrathion chuckled. His laughter rustled the leaves surrounding them

“I am shocked, really, that you don’t have the place memorized. After all, it is on your property.” It was clear he had struck upon some embarrassing truth, because when Anduin looked back down at him it was with cheeks the color of the sunset sky. Again, Wrathion’s heart skipped, and he took a step closer to whisper, “Is there some reason you want me lost in here, your Majesty?”

“Oh, you know, it’s funny seeing you try to solve the puzzle.”

“Or you were simply looking for some alone time, and this was the only place you could make your guards stay outside.”

It was so blatant when he said it that both of their giggles died on their lips. It seemed to linger in the space between them, punctuated only by Anduin’s shallow exhale when Wrathion reached up to touch his sleeve. His eyes—wide, and darker than usual—watched the dragon’s lips, and as the sun set behind the wall Wrathion’s own gaze spilled its crimson light across his already-flustered cheeks. 

It was just as he had hoped, though perhaps not expected. The king’s cordial reception and practiced speech over dinner yielded to the boy Wrathion remembered. When Wrathion smiled, he bit his lower lip; when his fingers rested against Wrathion’s waist they paused, trembled even, before tightening their grip.

“Well, it’s the only place they won’t follow me,” Anduin finally admitted, almost sheepish. It was perhaps unbecoming of a king to speak so sweetly, but it made Wrathion’s legs feel weak. He took a step closer, wrapping Anduin in an embrace, not stopping until their chests pressed gently together and he could feel his breath hitch.

And with that, it was hard to remember all the suaveness and skills he had learned in anticipation for this moment. It was hard not to feel like they were teenagers fumbling beneath the covers again, hiding against one another to muffle their sighs. Wrathion brought his palm to cup Anduin’s face, running his thumb along his cheekbone and grazing the thin dusting of hair he found on his chin. Pressing his face against the king’s neck, he drew in a breath, and then exhaled, finally, slowly, for what felt like the first time that evening.

Anduin’s hand, for its part, pressed firmly against his side, as if trying to feel and cling all in one simple gesture. Making its way from his ribs to the edge of his hip-guard, it paused, stroked under the armor for just a moment, then slid back to press against his shoulder. 

A soft giggle bubbled against Wrathion’s cheek, and when he looked up, he found the king grinning back down at him. “Wrathion, I think you’ve gotten taller.”

A blush flooded the dragon’s face, and then he huffed, straining, half-consciously, up onto his toes, “My king, you tease me.”

“No, no, I think you’ve gained an inch or two at least,” Anduin sounded so genuine, but Wrathion caught the twinkle in his eye: the kind of mischievous look he saved for particularly sly comments. Smoke curled from Wrathion’s nostrils on his next exhale, some of it escaping to tickle Anduin’s neck. But the king just kept watching and smiling, his own shadow spilling across the dragon’s cheeks.

Determined to wipe the smug look from Anduin’s face, Wrathion tightened his hold on his jaw, his claws tracing ever-so-slightly against the soft curve of Anduin’s lips. “Well, that is a relief for both of us, I am sure,” he teased, this time making a show of edging up onto the balls of his feet to lean more fully against the king’s body. He saw Anduin’s eyes widen slightly, and that only encouraged him. 

This time the smoke that escaped on his exhale wasn’t an irritated puff but a slow, almost seductive stream, just enough to caress his mouth with its warmth as he whispered, “It would have been a pity if I couldn’t reach you: tragic, even. You have certainly filled out since the last time I saw you, my king.”

His retort seemed to have worked, because now Anduin’s eyes were a bit too wide for playfulness, and he felt his breath catch as he struggled to find his voice. “Well, you know, I am an adult these days,” he laughed—short and awkward—before continuing, “I had to fill out the armor someday.”

“Yes, yes, well, it makes me wonder if you’ve filled out anything else, if you catch my meaning.”

“Wrathion!” 

Oh, there it was. Remembering what he had practiced had finally paid off. Anduin’s laughter died on his lips but his swallow was audible. He stared down at Wrathion and then slowly, deliberately, even, brought his hand to rest against the small of his back.

And that was all the nudging Wrathion needed. He flashed a smug look and then quickly hid it by capturing Anduin’s mouth in a kiss. Tilting his head, he pressed closer. His fingers, once curled against Anduin’s cheek, now snuck up to his hair, grasping the king’s small ponytail and pressing their bodies together. 

His lips parted slightly, tongue flicking out to tease his soft skin, and Anduin was there to meet him. There was a certain hunger—desperation, even—in the way Anduin sighed against his mouth and the way his hand dug into Wrathion’s tabard. All they had concealed behind gestures and niceties broke through, and before Wrathion knew it the king’s thigh had pressed firm between his legs and his hands were fumbling with the latch on his dragonscale hip-guards. 

But no, no, this wasn’t how things were to go, he reminded himself through the bleary haze of their kiss. Withdrawing his tongue, he drew in a breath, and when his mouth opened again it was just enough to catch Anduin’s lower lip between his teeth, tugging gently, and lingering with his palm cupping the back of the human’s head. 

The king clearly felt the shift, because he started to whisper some kind of question. Wrathion murmured and cut him off, “Now, now, my dear. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You’re king now, and I intend to treat you as such. And—” he preempted another protest with a kiss, this one gentle, but warm enough to make Anduin tremble— “Before you tell me you don’t want to be king, as I know you intend to do, at least let me show you what I have to offer.”

“Wrathion,” Anduin cut in, “have you been reading those intrigue books again?”

“I have been preparing myself, yes,” Wrathion didn’t hesitate to admit. It was hard to take the king’s jest too seriously when his chest rose with every touch. “But I doubt you will complain. Now, let me show you how I intend to serve you this evening, King Anduin. Surely you want some proof of my…commitment.”

“Wrathion,” Anduin started again. Evidence of the dragon’s flirtation—melodramatic though it may be—played out in a flush across Anduin’s cheeks, visible, even, in the twilight. 

Wrathion nodded, and murmured as his claw slid to tilt down Anduin’s chin, “Yes, King Anduin?”

“I—” It seemed, at first, that Anduin might come back with another retort, another round of banter, but any intent in that direction seemed to die under the dragon’s gaze. Instead he swallowed and glanced first to his right down the deserted path, and then to his left at the hedge. Wrathion could feel his heart pounding in the space where their bodies met, and finally, slowly, he murmured, “Yes, okay. Yes, please.”

When they kissed again, it was unhurried, almost purposeful, and Wrathion made his clawed gloves vanish to run his exposed nails through Anduin’s bangs. Lingering for a moment to enjoy the softness, he kissed his cheek, then his chin, then moved up to murmur against his ear, “I’ve missed you terribly, my dear.”

“Me too,” Anduin managed to gasp out. His hand stilled against Wrathion’s back as he trembled and leaned into his touch. “I’ve thought about this—about you, I mean—a lot, since everything—”

“Yes, as have I,” he nodded, and silenced the king by pressing another soft kiss to his ear. He nuzzled his cheek with his chin, letting his goatee tickle the skin of his jaw, before bringing his free hand to rest on the human’s chest. Toying with his leather sash almost absentmindedly for a pause, he finally followed it down to his waist, rubbing the soft cloth tunic below. Curious hands then wandered to the front of his belt and, finally, after giving the buckle a flick, to the bulge in his linen pants. 

It was barely a ghost of a touch, just a single stroke tracing his nail from his base to his head, but it made the king freeze, then gasp out a whimpered, “Wrathion!” 

The dragon smiled, then nipped at the soft skin just past his ear. The king’s cock twitched and swelled against the palm of his hand, and the shudder that passed through him felt like the wind rustling the hedge at his back. It began as a whimper but shook him from his knees to the soft bangs framing the sides of his face. He shook, and then gasped out a desperate: “Ah. Light!”

‘Actually, it is getting quite dark,’ Wrathion wanted to tease as he had so many times before. But oh, Anduin looked so good so totally desperate like this, and he couldn’t bring himself to spoil his moment. Instead he gave him a gentle squeeze and then took his length in one measured stroke through the front of his pants, toying the outline of his head with the pad of his clawed thumb.

“Let’s get this open, shall we?” All it took was a gentle nudge to his buckle before Anduin’s hands were down beside him, clicking the latch and pulling the strap back through its hole. The two ends fell, discarded, against Anduin’s hips, exposing his pants buttons to two sets of hands both scrambling to unhook them. Wrathion was the victor, easing the first fasten out of its hole and then quickly freeing the second.  
Anduin’s cock pressed into his waiting palm, and for a moment he just savored the feel of him. The man’s skin was flushed, just as soft as ever, but both head and girth were thicker than he remembered. Unable to help himself this time, he looked up with a toothy grin, “Well, it seems I was correct in my assumptions.”

If the king weren’t so otherwise occupied, he may even have sputtered, but now he just gasped out a short, “Wrathion, please!” Whether it was meant to reproach him or urge him on, Wrathion couldn’t be sure. 

But he did know he liked the tremble that passed through the king when he finally exposed him to the night air.

Grinning, he leaned in for another kiss, catching his bottom lip with his teeth and tugging, ever-so-gently, to draw out another soft moan. His palm started its ascent up Anduin’s length, and when he reached the head, he traced over his slit with his claw. Every movement was measured, practiced, even exploratory. He took it all in: from his Majesty’s obvious growth to the familiar way he shuddered when he was teased. He had always loved this, and their time apart had only stoked the fire that burned in his chest when the king leaned down and whimpered against his ear.

“That feels good. Ah…” 

The dragon leaned close against him, pressing their cheeks together in what could only be called a nuzzle. Tightening his grip, Wrathion slid his palm up over Anduin’s head. The king’s breath hitched, and his bangs tickled Wrathion’s face as another soft breeze caressed them. 

And then Anduin was thrusting into his touch, his erection twitching against his fingers and his legs tensing as the dragon toyed with the hair peeking out of his open smallclothes. Everything that had built in their absence seemed to break loose. He gasped, and the king rocked faster, desperate to deepen their contact. Every pump and squeeze drew whimpers he met with his own soft sighs, and the sounds seemed to hang in the maze, in this realm apart they had finally found for themselves. 

But Wrathion could tell where this was heading, and he didn’t want it to end with Anduin’s cum leaking out from his grasp, lost in the moment though they might be. He leaned up onto his toes and kissed the human’s ear; his palm remained flush against his shaft, but for a moment, he stilled his movements, taking his time to nip his ear lobe and trace over its shell with the tip of his tongue. “Now, now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves, my dear.”

“Ah, Wrath, have—” the king words came out stilted, as if strained through a breath caught in his throat. “Have you been practicing?”

“I told you I wanted to be ready to serve when I returned,” he shrugged slightly, and gave him another soft squeeze. “Surely you aren’t complaining?”

“I, no!” Anduin answered. Backing up slightly, he looked down to Wrathion’s face, flashing a flustered smile. The last rays of sun seemed to catch in his wide, blue eyes. “I just wanted you to know, that I haven’t, you know.”

He hadn’t? For a sinking moment, he feared the king might be angered by his perceived infidelity, by another apparent slight against the bond they had shared. He knew how humans could be, and Anduin was romantic. He always had been. 

But when he opened his mouth to try to defend his choice, the king simply let out a giggle, short, and awkward, before dipping down to claim his lips. “I haven’t had much time to myself. I just don’t want to disappoint you, I mean.”

“Nonsense, you could never disappoint me.” It was Wrathion’s turn to cut him off, and he did it by giving him a single, measured stroke. It had the desired effect; the king’s words left his lips, and his hair brushed against the hedge at his back as he tilted his head to gasp. Feeling almost triumphant, Wrathion grinned, and took this chance to kiss just beneath his jaw. It seemed like he still had the upper hand, as it were, and he certainly wasn’t complaining.

“This just means I have the honor of showing you how it’s done.” The heat in Wrathion’s chest spread with a clench between his own legs. Glancing down at the king’s head pressed against his decorated claws, he admired him, making a show of licking his lips when he knew the human was looking. “I have _so_ much I’d like to teach you.”

“I’m sure you love feeling like you have won,” Anduin managed to gasp out between his sighs. “But try not to flatter yourself _too_ much.”

“If I get my way, you’ll be flattering me by the time we’re done.”

“Wrathion, please.”

“Please what, my dear?” This time, the dragon asked. Smirking, he took a step forward and brought his free palm to press against the curve of the other man’s shoulder. His own blush had long since vanished; the only red left on his cheeks was the halo his eyes cast through the growing dusk, which flickered slightly when he leaned up for another kiss. 

“Please, keep touching me.”

“Of course, your Majesty. In fact, I can do even better.” 

Anduin started to react to that comment; Wrathion felt him snicker against his lips, but then he sank down onto his knees, and it was clear any thought to tease or chastise him had been thoroughly abandoned. All that was left was the young king’s cry echoing down the corridors of the empty maze. 

“Oh!” 

“Yes, my dear?” Wrapping his fingers around the base of his cock, Wrathion scooted forward. The dirt path was cold against his knees, but he found it difficult to care with Anduin’s cock mere inches from his lips and the king’s wide eyes staring down at him. He smiled. Beneath his fingers, the human’s shaft throbbed.

And then, without waiting for Anduin’s response, he leaned forward and flicked his tongue over his head. Above him, he heard the other man’s cries rising in volume and pitch. He felt his hand fumbling to touch Wrathion’s turban, and he grinned. Oh, Anduin. He couldn’t wait to make his knees weak.

Parting his lips just as he’d rehearsed, Wrathion wrapped them around his head, giving him a slow, experimental suck. He had struggled to keep his sharp teeth out of the way in the past, but now he pursed his lips around them, sliding down an inch or two before sucking his way back up. Anduin’s scent and the taste of his skin against his tongue overcame him, and when he sank back down, he made sure to go further, deeper. 

The whimper that followed was more than satisfying enough. Wrathion could feel himself getting wet, rocking slightly against his smallclothes to try for some kind of friction. He could also tell Anduin had caught him doing it, because the human’s quivering fingers slid from his turban to his forehead, and then to his cheek, a caress as sweet and caring as it was desperate. That kind of concern was what he had always loved about the young Wrynn, but for now he wanted to focus on _him_. 

Shaking his head slightly, he freed himself from the human’s touch. When he dipped back forward, Anduin’s hand slid up, knocking his turban onto the path behind him. Neither of them stopped to retrieve it. 

It only took a few sucks for Wrathion to find his pace. Wrapping his clawed fingers around the base of his shaft, he sank down, and then let them follow his lips back up, stopping just beneath his head as he teased his slit with his tongue. Each time he tried to go further; he barely even gagged when the human brushed the back of his throat. Anduin’s hair—thicker now than he had remembered—tickled the tip of his nose, and when he glanced up to watch him, he caught him raising his eyes to the stars and struggling to catch his breath.

He sucked and Anduin’s hand hit the hedge behind them. There was a faint ‘crnch,’ and then a handful of leaves scattered onto the ground between their legs. It was as if the king was grasping at _something_ in hopes of keeping his voice in check, but he was barely successful. His legs shook, hips bucking forward, and, clearly louder than he intended, he cried out the dragon’s name.

For his part, Wrathion tried to focus on the shaft sliding into his throat, teasing the underside with his tongue and murmuring when he rocked back. “My king,” he praised, knowing the whisper would tremble against the human’s flushed skin. Taking time to kiss his head, to catch his breath, he delighted in his voice and his scent and the way he shuddered against him. Sinking back down, he curled his lips in a smile that wrapped all the way around him.

The king all but squirmed, hands fumbling for his now-bare head, sliding through his hair and grasping at his small horns. It was clear he sought leverage. Wrathion let him keep clinging, keeping pace with his sucks, and enjoying the way the man’s fingers struggled not to grab too hard when he swallowed around his head.

It was easy to get lost in that touch, in that moment he had imagined for the last two years. He finally dropped his free hand between his own legs, and when he rubbed his slit through his pants he felt his clit twitch and nudge against the pad of his finger. A jolt shot through him, and he rocked forward, not caring, this time, if the king caught him pleasuring himself. If he had to guess, in any case, the human was likely too occupied to take note. 

Hazy and desperate, Wrathion moaned. His own clit ached, and against his tongue, he caught a hint of salty pre-cum betraying just how close Anduin was to finding his own release.

But then he heard voices just beyond the walls of the maze. “Are they still in there?” A man said, and then the hedge behind them shook, this time from some force applied to the outside. Anduin froze with his fingers still caught in Wrathion’s hair. Wrathion rested his forehead against Anduin’s abdomen, cock still buried between his lips.

“I told you we shouldn’t have let him go in with that dragon,” another man replied. The squeak of steel kneeguards hung in the air as the guards paced around the corner. Every second they lingered beyond the wall seemed to drag into eternity. 

“Greymane will have our heads if something happened to him. Shouldn’t we at least go and check if they’re—?”

“And break his Majesty’s orders?” A third voice chimed in. This one seemed to belong to a woman. “Give them time. If they aren’t out by the ninth hour, then we can make our move.”

“I just want you to know this will be on you if he’s compromised. I swear to you, Ridgemont, if he’s injured, or worse, I don’t know—”

Their voices trailed away, lost somewhere in the world behind them. It took a moment before either of them ventured to make a move.

Finally, carefully, Wrathion eased the king’s cock out of his mouth and chanced a glance up in his direction. Their eyes met in the dark. Anduin bit his lower lip, and Wrathion didn’t dare breathe for fear a whimper might escape on the heels of his exhale. They couldn’t be caught like this, he knew. King or not, Anduin couldn’t be caught with the Black Prince between his legs. 

He started to open his mouth, but then, almost _decisively_ , the human released his hold on his horn and instead grabbed the top of his arm. He pulled him to his feet with a jerk, with a strength Wrathion honestly didn’t know he had in him. The human embraced him, smashing their mouths together. His cock, still rigid, pressed flush against Wrathion’s clothes, and against his lips he gasped out a short: “This way, follow me.”

Finding this new burst of confidence intriguing, Wrathion was more than ready to comply. He helped Anduin stuff his cock back into his clothes and then grasped his hand, keeping pace as the king took off towards the tree he remembered from their wandering. Anduin’s belt still swung free, and under different circumstances he may have worried the guards would hear its clatter, but now he cared only about their dash and the way Anduin’s grip tightened around his fingers as he tugged him into a tight turn and towards the trap door he had noticed before.

“A guard room,” Anduin quickly confirmed as he pulled on the latch to reveal a set of stairs. Wrathion ducked in behind him and helped him ease it back down, fighting the urge to just grab it and pull, but knowing the squeal of its hinge might attract even more unwanted attention. 

“Won’t they check here?” He whispered. Once the door was shut, they were left in almost complete darkness. 

“It locks from the inside.” As if on cue, Wrathion heard the metallic click of a latch. He could barely make out Anduin’s outline on the stair above him. He wrapped his arms around his waist, pressing his face against the small of his back. Anduin stepped down, and then eased him against the wall. In the shadows, both of them grew bolder, with Wrathion tugging at Anduin’s collar and Anduin pressing his palms against the dragon’s chest through his shirt and binder. 

“They’ll have to break down the door if they want in now,” he murmured, slightly boastful, even, for Anduin.

“And you know this because?” 

“I have to hide from the Lion’s Guard somewhere, Wrathion. They won’t even leave me alone long enough to, well—"

“Touch yourself? Oh, Anduin. My poor king.”

“Shut up,” Anduin laughed, his breath hot against Wrathion’s hair. The fingers on Wrathion’s chest rubbed him through his clothes, and then dropped down to press between his legs. He shivered. Anduin found his slit through his pants, and before Wrathion could catch himself his legs shook and bucked into the human’s hand. 

Oh, Titans, it felt good to be touched by him again. All he could do was wrap his arms around his neck and cling, letting him rub, letting his cries rise unabated to his lips. Whimpering, he knocked his head against the wall. His horns scratched its dirt surface; his foot nearly slipped off the edge of the stair. But Anduin steadied him, then helped him down the last few steps, stopping each stride to kiss, touch, and tug at his clothing. 

Taking the hint, Wrathion vanished first his armor, then his tabard, tunic, and pants, and by the time Anduin guided him into the room below he was fully exposed. 

His now-bare back pressed against some kind of table. Anduin reached up over his head, tugging a chain and sparking the light overhead. He could now see the king’s flushed cheeks and the way his chest rose and fell as he pressed between Wrathion’s legs. He was clearly too flustered to look at Wrathion directly, but the dragon all but insisted, cupping his cheek and tilting his chin until their gazes locked.

Anduin smiled, and then, almost frantically, eased his cock back out of his pants. Helping Wrathion sit on the table surface, he rubbed his shaft between his legs, pressing their cheeks together and desperately nuzzling Wrathion’s ear. His head rubbed against Wrathion’s clit, making Wrathion’s legs twitch and clench around his waist. He rocked forward. The dragon tilted his head to the side, tangling his claws in the back of his collar, and clinging, gasping for the human to do it again.

But then he glanced to the side and saw the chair beside them. He remembered his plans, how this was supposed to go: all the careful gestures he had abandoned in their frantic, fumbling dance.

It was time he got back in control. 

“Sit,” he nodded towards the chair just as he shifted his weight. Caught off guard, the larger man was easier to maneuver. Wrathion advanced, and Anduin allowed himself to be nudged to the side, landing with a soft thud in the wooden seat. 

A question started to form on Anduin’s lips, but then Wrathion silenced it. Gently cupping his neck with one hand, he used the other for leverage against the table as he swung his leg over Anduin’s lap and moved to straddle his waist. Now Anduin was looking up at him, just like he used to do. A smile twitched at the corners of Wrathion’s lips. He rolled his hips forward, dragging his swollen clit along the human’s length and earning a cry that echoed off every wall. Far, now, from any threat of being caught, Wrathion growled out a puff of smoke that curled and danced in the space above Anduin’s head. 

The human’s whimpers were quick to follow. His fingers pressed against Wrathion’s hips, steading him as he rocked his body forward. Wrathion’s wet lips slid up the king’s length, and then he shoved his hand into the space between them. Wrapping his fingers around the base of Anduin’s shaft once again, he held him in place, rising, then guiding his head to press into his opening. 

He sank down in a single thrust. Anduin let out a cry, and then he was full, so completely full of the other man’s cock. Taking a moment to catch his breath, Wrathion enjoyed the way Anduin pressed against him, the way his fingers trembled as they slid from his hips to his sides, as if taking in every inch of his body. He rested his chin against the top of the human’s head. His arms draped over his shoulders to clutch the back of the chair, and then he pushed up carefully, inch by inch, before easing his cock back in. 

Every roll of his hips drew moans from Anduin’s lips. He leaned forward, changing his angle slightly, and that new pressure made him tremble and join in Anduin’s gasps. Anduin’s hair tickled his clit, making his body clench, the nub throbbing, desperate for him to deepen the contact. With his legs shaking as they were around Anduin’s waist, it was difficult for him to hold himself steady. Clutching the edge of the table with one hand, he removed the other from the back of the chair and used it, instead, to give Anduin’s ponytail the gentlest of tugs. 

The human looked up, eyes wide; Wrathion saw the crimson glow of his own gaze reflected back in his stare. Blinking and smiling, he shifted. The human’s eyes squeezed closed, and he kissed his hair, his forehead, everywhere he could reach, before murmuring, gentle but firm, “Please hold onto me.” 

Anduin nodded, quick to catch on. He moved his hands from Wrathion’s sides to the small of his back, steadying him, giving him a slight squeeze to let him know he could hold him. If he hadn’t been shaking, he might have noticed that Anduin’s hands felt stronger and slightly more calloused than the delicate fingers of a prince, but as he was, he had little urge to ponder. He just whimpered and threw back his head. His curly hair clung to his forehead as he slid back into Anduin’s grip, and then he plunged his hand between them.

When he found his clit it was already rigid, and he pressed it between his fingers, stroking, reaching down past it to smear his wetness back up over its sensitive head. The tips of his claws brushed Anduin’s shaft at their point of contact, and then he rubbed back upwards, trying to stroke himself in time with the other man’s thrusts. Rolling his hood over his tip, he felt his body clench. 

Anduin seemed to feel his reaction, as well, because he tightened his grip on his backside and thrust up into him, shaft throbbing, legs shaking as they knocked against Wrathion’s thighs.

With that, his strokes grew more desperate. Each time Anduin’s hips jerked upwards, he slammed himself back down to meet him. His thumb and finger jerked the length of his clit, drawing out tremors and moans he did nothing to hide. His other hand tangled in Anduin’s hair, and he buried his face against his neck, shaking and gasping, letting their bodies move together as one. From the heat of Anduin’s breath against his skin to the pressure of his cock inside him he found it harder and harder to hold on. 

His feet knocked against the sides of the chair. His clit ached, and then his whole lower body clenched in a single moment of desperate need. Rubbing himself one last time, he came hard, everything inside of him focusing on the clench and release of all the tension and heat and wetness that had built up since the first kiss they shared that evening.

He cried out and slumped against Anduin’s chest. The chair creaked. Anduin shuddered, and his lips kissed hungrily at the side of his throat. A wave of pleasure overtook him, and when he finally released his hold on the table it was to cling to the human’s back and bury him in his embrace. 

Heart racing, chest rising and falling as he struggled to catch his breath, he held on. Anduin let his hands fall to his sides, and between their legs, he felt wetness starting to drip; whether it came from him, from Anduin, or from some combination thereof he couldn’t be entirely sure.

All he knew was how nice it felt to wrap his arms around the human once more and to feel his lips pressing desperate kisses against the curve of his neck. All he could hear was their staggered breaths, and the way Anduin whispered his name when he nuzzled the top of his head. 

He clung to Anduin, their bodies melting together as his legs started to relax. Soon the heat that had flooded his face started to abate, and he could just hold on and enjoy that feeling of being together. It was irreplaceable, irreplicable. He finally had his dear human back, and honestly he couldn’t be happier.


End file.
